After the fall
by Coldlittleheart
Summary: AU right after The Reichenbach Fall. Sherlock has to crach at Molly's flat and things start to happen between the two of them. Smutty Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

**This takes place after The Reichenbach Fall. AU. Sherlolly. Rated M for smut.**

**After the fall**

**Chapter 1**

The street lights shone over the dew covered sidewalks of London creating long and bright yellow stripes over the pavement. In the distance the wail of an ambulance could be heard, getting lost in the silence that fell upon the city.

She exited the cab and made her way into the building, keys in one hand, bag in the other, its heaviness a mirror of the weight she felt draped over her shoulders. Deep in her chest she felt her emotions stirring as she climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to her apartment.

Molly took a deep breath before inserting the key and turning it. She tried to prepare herself, steady her thoughts and even her breathing before entering, but in her heart she knew that everything was pointless; it didn't matter how much she attempted to achieve control, he always managed to weaken her resolve with one single look.

The main room's darkness was briefly slashed in two by the fluorescent light in the corridor and quickly restored as the door shut behind her back. Dropping the bag, keys and coat on the sofa, she silently started to make her way towards her bedroom.

From under the closed door she could see the light was on and she knew he was there. Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of anticipation and nervousness. It had not been the easiest day for her. It had not been the easiest day for any of them.

Molly reached the end of the hallway just as Sherlock opened the door abruptly having picked up on the creaking the floorboards made under her tiny feet.

"You are here", he said a little out of breath. He shook his head at the obviousness of his own remark and moved away from the doorway, allowing her room to come in.

"Sorry it took so long,'' she responded as she made her way into her own bedroom.

Earlier they had agreed that once everything had settled that dreadful afternoon, Sherlock would come to her apartment and wait there for her. It was the only safe place for him to be until other arrangements were made by Mycroft.

"Everything done?" he asked.

"Yes" she responded fidgeting with the edges of her sweater sleeves and sitting at the edge added, "It's done. You are dead Sherlock; just like you asked."

As he heard those words, he released the doorknob and made his way towards Molly. Hesitating he sat next to her and looked vacantly into the far wall.

"Did you see John?" he asked.

Molly nodded and took a deep breath trying to steady her heart.

"John was devastated,'' she said as she turned to look at him. The words seemed to hurt her throat as she delivered them. It pained her to see John so sad and unaware of everything that was going on.

"Why can't you tell him, Sherlock?" she asked seeking his eyes with her own. "Why?"

Sherlock turned slightly and read the concern on her face written all over her features. She was frowning, looking down at her hands as her fingers continued to play nervously with her sweater. Molly's shoulders were slumped forward, burdened, and quickly Sherlock understood the importance of what he had asked of her and the impact it had.

"Molly" he started saying, as his voice reverberated all around the room. "John was one of Moriarty's targets, just like Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. Until we have control over the whole network they are still going to be in danger. The only way to keep them safe is this. I had to die".

She nodded disappointedly knowing how much pain all of them would have to endure but she understood his point.

"How long are you going to stay" she asked not looking at him. Avoiding eye contact seemed to ease the pain of learning things she didn't want to know.

"A few days...until Mycroft and I figure out the plan," he explained as he rubbed his palms over his thighs, straightening the fabric of his trousers over and over.

"And after that?"

"Maybe weeks, could be months" he responded as Molly's head instantly turned towards him.

She wasn't expecting him to be around forever after his orchestrated "death" but she had not anticipated how long the pretense had to last.

Sherlock, regardless of his emotional detachment, realized deep down what it all meant. He was determined to do everything to dismantle Moriarty's network but knew that it came at a high price. He had disregarded feelings as a weakness all his life but at that moment he came close to understanding what concern for another human being meant. Sherlock had friends. John and Molly were his friends and that was the highest regard he could have for another person. Friends were cared for and honored even though, sometimes, he would get a little exasperated by their actions.

Turning to face her he waited until she had made eye contact with him and started to say, "Molly, you have been an extraordinary friend to me. I know I have asked a lot from you today but you have to understand that it had to be done this way. There was no other".

Molly understood perfectly. Inside her mind everything seemed perfectly logical. The problem was that she couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness that crept up her stomach. It was the biggest secret anyone had ever asked of her. It was a life or death situation for so many dear friends. And most of all, it was Sherlock the one asking for her help. Sherlock was the one reaching out to her, of all people.

Molly nodded as she got up and started to make her way into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten anything?" she asked.

SHSHSHS

Afraid that anyone would spot him through the main room windows, they ate dinner in her bedroom. In the back, the telly was on and the news was all about Sherlock.

Molly sat with her legs crossed under her and a bowl of pasta in her hands while Sherlock sat opposite her, at the foot of the bed in the same position and facing the telly.

"Before I left tonight Mike told me to take a couple of days off for the funeral and to sort out anything I needed to tend to," she said in between bites and trying to make conversation.

On the other end of her bed Sherlock balanced his bowl in one of his hands, the food untouched as his eyes were glued to the telly behind her.

"I'll let Mycroft know, " he responded. "He was going to deliver a package to you at Bart's.''

As she listened to him, Molly struggled with a single rebellious spaghetti noodle that fell from her fork and ended up landing on her chest, on the only patch of skin her shirt left exposed.

At that precise moment Sherlock's eyes broke away from the screen and followed the spaghetti as it stuck to her white skin.

"Bugger," said Molly a little ashamed as she set the bowl down on the nightstand and picked the offending noodle from her chest.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

"Are you laughing at me?," she asked annoyed as she looked down to check her clothes.

"There is a bit of sauce umm…," he said as he gestured in her direction, waving his finger in the air.

"Where?," she asked looking down at her shirt with her napkin clutched in her hand.

"There Molly," he said getting exasperated as she failed to find the small streak of tomato sauce that was dangerously close to her breasts.

"Did I get it?," asked Molly feeling her cheeks starting to burn in embarrassment.

Setting his bowl down, he moved across the bed to where she was and reaching out removed the little drop of sauce with his thumb and, bringing it up to his lips, licked it clean.

Molly just sat there, staring at Sherlock, feeling her heart pumping like crazy inside her chest. He was sexy as hell but she had no idea he was capable of making such a mundane gesture so enthralling.

Molly whispered, "Thank you," feeling a little exposed and aroused.

He gave her a quick smile and standing up said, "You should go to bed Molly. You have a funeral to attend"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Molly let her body sink into the sofa as she kicked off her black shoes and rubbed her temples.

Sherlock walked into the sitting room almost on cue and sat opposite her, in the chair he had claimed as his own.

"How did it go?," he asked.

"Fine," she responded rather coldly.

"Just fine?," he inquired a little further.

"It was a funeral, Sherlock. It wasn't exactly fun," she stated as a light headache started building inside.

"Anything that might have stood out as odd?," he asked once again.

"No Sherlock. Just people mourning and crying for you."

He nodded, knowing it wasn't wise to keep asking. It was obvious that everything had gone as planned and there was nothing substantial to report.

"Please don't be sad. Everything will be over before you know it," he told her as if trying to ease her burden.

Molly looked away. Taking a deep breath and then looking back at him nodded in acceptance of her fate.

"Sherlock, I knew deep down what all of this meant and I decided to help you regardless of the way I feel about it. I made the conscious decision to help and I would do it in a heartbeat all over again. The only problem is that it's difficult to see how everyone is affected by this,"she said, speaking from the deepest part of her heart.

Sherlock got up and sat next to her. Reaching out he touched the side of her arm and leaned closer to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. But this time, the kiss wasn't like the one from that awful Christmas evening. It wasn't apologetic. This one was filled with gratitude and maybe it meant that he did have feelings hidden somewhere under his uncaring exterior.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, making the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Molly turned to face him and realized she had never been so close to him.

And that's when the doorbell rang.

Molly jumped from her seat and gestured for him to go into the bedroom. She straightened her black dress and moved towards the door. Once Sherlock was out of sight, she asked, "Who is it?"

"Package for Ms. Hooper," said the man from the other side of the door.

She opened it, greeted the young man and taking the package from his hands, signed and returned inside.

Sherlock peeked from the hallway, silently asking if it was safe to come out.

Knowing where it came from, Molly handed the parcel to Sherlock and walked to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

As if he were a little kid on Christmas morning, he emptied the contents on the coffee table and shuffled with all the papers as if looking for something in particular. Finally, at the bottom of the pile, he located it and picked it up in his hands. Unfolding it, he laid it on top of everything in front of him and studied it.

"It's a map", Molly whispered to herself.

"Indeed", responded Sherlock as he used his index finger to trace one of the lines, following it closely. "Every Moriarty associate that has been identified is on this map".

Molly moved in closer and stood right next to him as he became enthralled with all the information in his hands.

"They are all over the world" she said realizing the astonishing extent of the network.

As she said that, a small mobile phone started to vibrate on the table.

Sherlock let go of the map and shuffled the papers around, trying to find it. Bringing it up to his ear he answered it.

"Mycroft" he said and walked off into the bedroom.

Molly was left with the large map lying on her lap as she tried to take it all in.

Unable to hear what he was saying over the phone and feeling overwhelmed, she stood up and moved back into the kitchen to make some tea.

Sherlock emerged from the bedroom after almost an hour. Molly had already had her tea and was still in the kitchen, elbows resting on the counter, and her head cradled in her hands.

She heard him approach but didn't turn around to acknowledge him.

"Molly," he said as he set the phone down on the kitchen island and made his way around it, until he was next to her. "I have news."

She straightened up and turned to look at him. When she didn't say anything, he continued to explain.

"I'm going to stay here for a few weeks, at least. Mycroft explained that we need to wait and see how everything unfolds ."

"Ok," she responded letting it all sink in.

Sherlock continued, "Once Mycroft and I have assessed the situation we can make plans to move forward. Until then, I'll stay here with you. If you'll have me," he trailed off with a shy smile.

Molly nodded. She sighed relieved and smiled back at Sherlock. He was not going to leave so soon after all, and the plan seemed reasonable enough. At one point, she had not only felt overwhelmed by the whole situation, but she had felt deeply scared for him. She was scared of his well being. She was scared that he was really going to die.

"Sherlock," she started to say. "Please be careful."

SHSHSHS

As planned, Molly was going to spend the next few days with Sherlock. She had been given time off and she made a point of staying in her flat with him.

It felt rather strange to have him around, day and night, all the time. She wasn't quite sure how things were going to work themselves out. When she agreed to have him there she had not really thought about what it would be like to live with him.

That evening they had dinner once again in her bedroom. For some reason he thought it was the safest room in the flat because of the way the windows were facing. He had calculated almost every possibility and, even though it was ok to walk about the sitting room and kitchen, at night, the bedroom offered the most secluded environment.

Unlike the night before, Molly sat against the pillows of her bed, her back fully resting on the fluffy material. A minute later, Sherlock walked in with two plates of chips and handed one of them to her.

She sat up and brought her legs up to make room for Sherlock to take the foot of the bed like he had done the previous night. Circling around, instead of facing her, this time he sat next to her, resting on his side, propped up on his elbow and stretched all along the mattress.

He was wearing black jeans, a white t-shirt and he was barefoot and Molly wondered if that was how it felt to share domestic bliss with him. The moment felt very intimate and it stirred up all sorts of emotions inside Molly's chest.

Sherlock seemed to fancy chips more than anything as she just lay there, enjoying his food like she had never seen him do before. Quietly, she just took the time to look at him and take in the moment knowing that it wouldn't last long, knowing that she was living on borrowed time.

"Like what you see?," he asked playfully making Molly avert her eyes instantly.

She composed herself, cleared her throat and got busy with the food.

Sherlock turned and looked up at her, as she looked straight at the telly.

"Molly?," he asked now staring at her.

"What?," she asked nonchalantly not taking her eyes away from the screen. She knew he had caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Where you staring at me?," he asked straightening up a little, leveling his head with hers.

Molly turned beet red. A flush crept up her neck and tinted her cheeks brightly. She finally looked at him and held his gaze but didn't answer, afraid words would fail her.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and squinted slightly as he read her expression. He couldn't help but smile a little as saw her face getting red. Slowly, he set the tray on the nightstand and turned towards her.

"Can I ask you something?," said Sherlock. His tone very natural and genuine.

Molly just nodded, certain that she couldn't possibly say one simple word.

"Why do you fancy me,?" he asked and before she could get the wrong message added, "Seriously, I'm arrogant and egotistical...I'm selfish and narcissistic...why would you...why would anyone like me?"

Molly couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sherlock was being incredibly honest and genuinely concerned. She couldn't figure out what had brought him to such an insightful state but it was pleasant to see this side of him.

Running her hand down her hair she set the chips on the nightstand and turned to face him. Her stomach was in knots but it wasn't just her nervousness it was the fact that Sherlock couldn't seem to fathom that he could actually be liked.

"Why would you ask me that?," she started to say but he quickly interrupted her.

"No, no, no... tell me...why do you like me?"

Molly had been infatuated with Sherlock for the longest time. She even had come to the occasional thought that she loved him, but loving was a big word. She had tried to have him notice her in so many ways that she had lost count and now, he was there, simply asking her to tell him why she felt the way she did.

Molly closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It wasn't like every day Sherlock Holmes would ask you to put into coherent words such complicated emotions.

"Against what most people would say and think, you are caring and generous in your own way," she started to say. "You are brilliant and stoic but above all you are inherently a good man...and that's what I like about you...you try to keep everyone at arm's length but some of your actions mean otherwise and that's why I care for you."

Sherlock listened attentively. Noone had ever said those things to him. Usually it was more along the lines of self-centered and sociopath.

"How do you see all this in me when I have mostly been cruel to you?," he asked referring specifically to that Christimas' Eve at Baker Street.

"I have learned to see through your bullshit Sherlock," she replied offering him a smile that felt warm and forgiving. "And not everyone would die for his friends..."

Having said that, she reached out and placing her hand on his face continued to speak, "I know a good man when I see him, I know you are a good man, Sherlock Holmes." And with those simple words she obliterated all her fears and moved in to place a soft and loving kiss on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The kiss was chaste and it conveyed all the reasons why she liked him. She had never given anyone a kiss that was so meaningful.

Slowly she broke away and, opening her eyes, maintained her hand on his cheek, cupping his face as she stared into his blue eyes.

Sherlock blinked, a little confused and asked, "I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything," said Molly in the sweetest way. "Sometimes words are not required...a simple gesture will do."

Sherlock seemed to get lost in her eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand on his face and the thrill of her proximity. He knew that Molly liked him. He knew she had liked him for quite a while. But he could never understand why and that was the reason he never took her seriously. He had thought that she was just a young girl infatuated with the idea of him, that it was just a meaningless crush, superfluous and superficial. But that was until a few days ago when she had approached him at the lab. She had reached out to him in a way no one had before, avoiding games, pretenses and verbal banter and just plainly telling him that she knew what he was going through when nobody else could and if he should need someone, he could count on her. After that, everything she had done for him had only cemented the certainty that her feelings for him were real and that above all she was loyal and trustworthy.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for everything you have done for me..."

And with those words moved in to return her kiss.

SHSHSHSHSH

Molly closed her eyes almost instinctively as his lips touched hers. She inhaled deeply and held her breath as his mouth stayed in contact.

And swiftly, just like it started, it ended.

At first she thought something was wrong but upon seeing the look in his eyes realized that everything was fine and he was just taking his time to take it all in.

"I still don't quite understand why you put up with me..." he said still a little puzzled.

"You don't need to understand...just run with it" she added, sounding playful and happy.

Molly felt giddy and exhilarated not really thinking about what was next.

"I like you Molly...," He started to say "...and I hope I can be what you need me to...you can trust me when I say that I have no idea where this is going to take us but I shall never hurt you."

Molly's eyes teared up and she smiled against his mouth when he came in to kiss her again.

This time he felt more certain, more determined, as if his kisses were laced with a new found sense of conviction.

His mouth parted slightly, and his warm breath caressed her lips right before his tongue darted out to taste them.

She tasted of salt with a faint hint of honey and she smelled like flowers. The aroma seemed to assault his senses, as it registered somewhere in his mind as if to never forget it, never forget her.

Under his careful touch, Molly's skin felt soft and tender and he couldn't resist the need to explore it further, caress her, feel her. His fingers traced the length of her jaw, setting for a brief moment on her chin before moving down the side of her neck to settle on her shoulder.

Sherlock would have gladly indulge further but didn't want to push it, push her, push them.

Holding her close, he inhaled deeply when her mouth parted open on his and she traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Sherlock had plenty of ways to explain why his body was reacting the way it was, a simple case of stimuli and reactions brought on by it, but at that moment he really didn't care.

In the back of her mind Molly started to hear bells ringing just as Sherlock broke their contact.

"Someone is at the door," he said slightly out of breath.

Molly opened her eyes feeling confused as if being torn from a pleasant dream and thrust into reality.

Seeing the look on her face Sherlock caressed her cheek and repeated, "someone rang the bell...are you expecting anyone?"

Molly shook her head in confusion. She wasn't expecting anyone and really didn't care about anything but that moment they had just shared.

Sighing deeply she disentangled herself from his hands and jumped off the bed dreading the situation. Quietly she glanced at him over her shoulder and headed out to get the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Molly opened the door without asking and instantly, as she realized her mistake, made an attempt to shut it as Lestrade was walking in.

"Shit…," she said opening the door again upon seeing she had sandwiched him against the frame. "I'm sorry...I…"

"S'ok," he responded a little confused as he straightened his clothes and moved past her into the sitting room. "Are you alright?"

Molly nodded and glanced back towards the bedroom briefly before shutting the door completely and answering. "Sorry...I had fallen asleep and I'm still a bit groggy."

Lestrade sized her up noticing her flushed cheeks and the way she kept smoothing down her top but dismissed any thoughts and took a seat in what was Sherlock's chair.

"Molly, I need your help... it's John." He said obviously concerned. "He was picked up by one of our men today, pissed drunk at a bar picking up a fight with some stupid bloke."

"Oh my God, is he ok?" She asked quickly sitting on the closest chair.

"I don't want to take him in because of this...and I don't think he should be left alone tonight," explained Lestrade.

Molly nodded and wondered if Sherlock had been listening.

"I will come with you," she said while getting up. "Give me a minute."

With that, she rushed to the bedroom to find Sherlock sitting at the edge of the bed. Closing the door behind her back, she walked to him and knelt at his feet.

"You heard?"

By the look on his face, she was certain he had.

"I'll go check on him... and I will call you... alright?" She said as she got dressed, throwing on a sweater and grabbing a few things from the dresser.

She was about to head out when Sherlock stood up and taking her by the arm, pulled her to him and bent down to kiss her. It wasn't a chaste exchange. It was a little more intense and forceful as if the intensity could convey a sense of concern and urgency he had not expressed before.

"Be careful," he said.

SHSHSHSHSH

Molly rode silently next to Lestrade. John had been dropped at Baker Street a few minutes before they got there.

Walking in, she greeted Mrs. Hudson silently with a quick hug before heading upstairs.

When she entered the flat, she found John slumped on the sofa, half hanging off the side, eyes closed.

In the back of her mind she remembered the talk she had with Sherlock earlier and wondered if he could really be so oblivious to the importance he had for his friends.

She knew that Sherlock could be arrogant but she wondered if he really knew that people did care for him. His friends genuinely cared. Or perhaps he just simply chose to ignore it for some special reason she couldn't even begin to fadom.

Molly approached John and took his pulse. He was a little tacky, probably because he was dehydrated.

"John," said Molly. "Can you hear me?"

John looked up and around until he found Molly's figure and focused on her. He brought his hand up and pressed the heel against his temple, wincing in pain as his head started to hurt.

She knelt by the sofa and tried to make eye contact just as Lestrade walked in.

John looked up and shook his head knowing something was wrong.

"Did I do something bad? He asked, already knowing the answer.

"No... nothing bad," she rushed. "You just had a little too much to drink. That's all."

"Then why is Lestrade here?" Asked John. He was hangover, not stupid.

"You may have picked up a fight," she started to say.

"Am I under arrest?" Asked John looking at Lestrade.

"No," he reassured him. "But you were close."

John tried to move but a sharp stabbing pain forced him to stay put.

"Don't move," said Molly. "We should probably take you to the hospital...you could have a broken rib."

John shook his head. He was nauseated and dizzy but he was well aware of his surroundings.

"Why are you here?" John asked looking at Molly.

"I asked her to come," responded Lestrade.

"Did you get me here?" Asked John having a faint memory of being in a police car.

"We picked you up and I asked Molly to come stay with you...I don't think it's wise for you to be alone," added Lestrade taking a few steps closer to where to they were.

"I don't need a babysitter," protested John. "No offense Molly."

"None taken," she responded and was going to add something but John stopped her.

"Please don't take me wrong...I rather be left alone…," said John. "I'm ok...I will be fine."

"John, we know how you feel...we feel the same...let us help…," begged Molly.

John shook his head and said, "I know...but I rather be alone…"

Molly felt very sad upon witnessing John's pain and not being able to alleviate his suffering. She felt guilty and selfish.

"Please Molly, go…I'll be fine," said John and gestured for them to leave.

"At least let us get you something to drink…," she started to say getting up and making her way into the kitchen.

She poured some water and fixed some tea hoping that her time there would at least be helpful to John in some way.

With Lestrade they finally left a few hours later.

SHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock walked his mind palace with a box in his hands. In his mental structure he moved down a hallway and past a few doors before choosing one and entering.

In the room he placed the box down and attempted to leave but instead he sat down on the floor and surveyed the contents.

He was putting away pictures of Molly. Images of the past night with her flushed cheeks. He was also registering the sounds she made when he moved closer, how her feminine body reacted to him, the smell of her skin and the taste of her lips.

In there he found himself wondering what it would be like to touch her, how her body would feel under his. He even came to imagine her naked, laying down on her bed, her hair wild and her eyes dark with desire.

He wanted to keep it all alive in his mind unconsciously afraid it would all end soon.

Sherlock was aware of the situation. He knew that he was going to leave at some point and most likely for quite a while. He also knew that Molly deserved to be happy and he probably wasn't the type to provide her with stability and a white picket fence.

Closing the box he left it in the room and walked back to his immediate reality.

SHSHSHSHSH

Molly arrived at around 4 in the morning to find him resting in her bed. The sight was one taken from one of her fantasies but it was very much real.

Sherlock was on his back, hands on his belly. His breathing was even as if he was calm and collected also when he slept.

She took off her sweater and kicking her shoes climbed in bed with him.

Sherlock sensed the mattress shifting under him and turned to find her at his side. He faced her and noticed a single tear falling down her cheek. Reaching out he wiped it off and moved in closer. Sliding his arm under, he brought her to him until Molly was curled up in a ball, her head resting on his chest and her hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He thought he could hear her sob so he brought her even closer and started to plant soft kisses on her forehead as his hand caressed her back.

"Sleep Molly," he told her. "I'm here."

Sherlock remained awake for the rest of the night knowing he wasn't going to be there for very much longer. Inside he started to feel restless and all he wanted was to protect Molly from harm.


End file.
